Crown of Moonlight (Court of Midnight and Deception #2) - K.M. Shea Page 0,104
or Rigel slipping one of his daggers out of his bracers that inspired the previously-unhelpful fae to finally speak.
“It appeared in the woods and came to the castle, laying waste on its way.” She swallowed and glanced at my staff.
“And?” I prompted.
“King Fell was in the castle. He came out with some of the soldiers and did battle with the monster. The monster…King Fell…” Her mouth opened and closed a few times as she tried to phrase her next sentence without lying. “When the monster proved it could not be destroyed, King Fell opted to relocate it.”
“Huh. Spoiler: you can kill it,” I said. “You just have to separate its limbs to cut it off from the magic that powers it. Or find something bigger than it to destroy it.”
I peered up at Rigel. “You wanna drop King-Irresponsible over there and head home? I don’t think we’re going to get much more info just yet.”
Rigel nodded.
The fae curtsied. “If you would allow me to call for servants to tend to King Fell—”
Rigel ignored her and casually tossed Fell, as if the tall king was a dog toy.
Fell flew through the air and landed on the leaf-padded ground with an oomph, then rolled an extra foot or two.
The fae stared at us in horror. “How dare you treat King Fell with such disrespect?”
“Oh, we’ll dare as long as he keeps dumping his messes on us.” I said.
The fae frowned and seemed like she was going to yell at us—or just me, because there was no way she was brave enough to yell at Rigel—when a shadow passed overhead.
I had just enough time to wonder what caused the shadow, before three autumn griffins landed in the grass—their wings up and the talons on their front feet digging into the ground.
The autumn griffins—the animal that graced the crest of the Autumn Court—were beautifully frightful. Roughly horse sized, with a seamless meld of hawk and feline grace, the griffins had the head and front legs of a hawk with the body, back paws, and tail of a lion.
Their most stunning feature was their enormous wings, but their colorings were gorgeous, too. The one closest to me had dark brown feathers that looked like a burnt red under the sun, and had cream accents. One in the back seemed to glow orange, while the last was a meld of gold and brown.
I love my trash griffins…but wow, seeing these autumn griffins makes me realize how adorably homely mine are.
The orange griffin preened itself while the gold-brown griffin looked at Fell and then pointedly hopped away from him.
The black-haired fae we’d been talking to backed up a few steps—which was not at all reassuring.
At the same time, the burnt red griffin prowled closer to me.
I swallowed, but did my best to smile and remain relaxed—animals always respond better to someone who is calm and chill. “Hey there,” I said. “We were just going…”
Words died in my throat as the griffin invaded my space, his beak—orange with brushes of black—was uncomfortably close to me.
I jumped when he lowered his head—pointing the top of it at me—then thumped it into my forehead.
What the—
Magic that started at my toes and bubbled up shot through me like a geyser.
Leaves crunched under my feet, and the cool tang of the first autumn frost filled my lungs while the sensation of a crisp breeze played in my hair. The dry chuckle of leaves slapping each other teased my ears, and I could feel the days shorten.
When the magic released me I stumbled, suddenly able to see and hear again.
The griffin caught me, leaning in so when I flailed I smacked into its chest, feeling its sleek feathers and the downy softness of its fur.
It was a familiar sensation—I’d experienced it with Verdant’s stag and my own night mares—but I was more than a little confused as to why the griffin had done it.
Are they thanking me for bringing back Fell, or for taking care of the skull monster?
I jerked away as soon as I recovered, almost bouncing into Rigel. “Thank you? That was, uh, thank you,” I babbled.
The burnt red griffin bowed its head to me while the orange griffin glared at the black-haired fae.
All three griffins folded their wings against their backs and then prowled into the forest, disappearing as the colored leaves camouflaged them.
“What do you think that was about?” I asked Rigel when I could talk again.
“It appeared to be a thanks, of a sort,” Rigel said.